


Bang Bang

by Caito_Potato



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: I dunno i had things and it didnt translate as well when i wrote them out, Ill edit it later so its better i swear, Its pretty bad honestly, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 15:44:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caito_Potato/pseuds/Caito_Potato
Summary: Morty gets shot, and Rick could care less.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow so um, not exactly my best work, but it will get better I'll edit it and it will be lovely and heart wrenching I swear.

Bang Bang

 

The mission had been simple enough, though they usually always were whenever Rick was explaining them. Morty had no reason to be worried when they stepped through the portal, everything seemed normal. Just another dimension to wander through while Rick babbled on about whatever he was here for. 

Morty would have paid more attention to what Rick was saying, but he was more interested in the aliens that seemed to be following them. Other that, or there were a lot of similar looking aliens on this planet. He looked up at Rick, who was pocketing his flask, and sighed “Rick, how long is this going to take? I want to get home before dark, its family game night, remember?” 

Rick grunted, Morty knowing this meant he heard him. Did Rick actually listen though? No. Most likely not. And so, onwards they continued. Morty continuing to count how many times he would see the same alien. He was up to about 10, and took note of features. Bulbous body, dark green coat that stretched over his, what Morty assumed was, belly. He had either an impressive hat on, or horn on his head. He was too far away to tell for certain. But Morty didn’t like how he watched them.

Rick turned sharply into an alley, Morty shifting to keep up as best as he could, slipping just slightly on some neon blue goop that was on the sidewalk. He sighed, moving back beside Rick as the elder stopped. He blinked, realizing they were coming face to… face, with the alien he saw earlier. It put him at ease a bit, knowing that this alien was some sort of informant, or whatever, that Rick was meeting. They chatted to each other in almost chirps, and Morty couldn’t follow. The alien didn’t seem happy in the least, but Rick was persistent.

Finally, Rick got what he needed, and turned to leave. Morty followed quickly behind as Rick shot the portal gun at the wall and stepped through. Morty turned, shifting to follow, and was one foot in when he heard the strangest noise. He was about to turn back to try and figure out what it was, but a delirious pain ripped through his side, and he stumbled through the portal like he was drunk.

He steadied himself against Rick's work bench, the other already having his back turned, and working with the package he received from the alien. Morty craned his neck, trying to stifle the little whimpered of agony he was dealing with as he looked at his side. Apparently, to his delirious senses, he had been shot. It didn’t look like a bullet wound, not even a laser burn, no, there was pretty much a circular hole, straight through Morty's side. It was perfectly round, and a clean cut. Though, he couldn’t exactly stop to appreciate that, as blood was just pumping out of the wound. 

He blinked dumbly as his shirt quickly went red, along with some of his jeans. He swallowed thickly “..Um… Rick?” He said softly, hoping to get the others attention “…Rick? I think… I think I’m hurt.” the elder stopped, but didn’t turn “Morty, I’m busy. I’ll fIIIUGHx your paper cut in a secOUGHnd.” And then he went back to whatever he was up to. This made perfect sense in Morty's mind. Give Rick a moment. He’ll fix Morty in a minute. No need to worry. 

Morty stumbled over to the wall, leaning against it. He slowly slid down, unable to keep himself upright. He gulped, watching the blood pool on the floor around him. He frowned, that was a lot. Didn’t he need all that? He looked over to Rick again, the other hunched over in concentration “…Rick?” he said meekly, his own voice surprising him for coming out so weakly “Im… I’m getting really… really tired i-im… I’m just gonna… gonna take a nap OK?” The elder grunted, and Morty nodded, leaning against the shelf in the garage, and letting his eyes close. He was so exhausted, it wasn’t even funny.

He listened to the sounds of Rick tinkering away, and lulling him to sleep. He coughed slightly, starting to wheeze. This made him frown deeply. Was he getting sick? That was no good, Rick hated it when Morty was all sniffly on their adventures. He attempted to raise his voice enough to warn Rick to make a cure for the common cold, or whatever he had, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Sleep was clawing at him, and he decided to let it win. 

Rick would fix him up when he was done working, there was nothing to worry about. Rick promised.


	2. One two, skip a few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick cant cure death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh Geeze. Well, here's this mess.

It was a peaceful quiet. Rick had noticed it when he had taken pause, working on a machine that would most certainly turn water into vodka in about twenty seconds. He was happy as hell with his work, deciding to take a little break, and figure out what had Morty's panties in a twist earlier. 

He hummed, turning his chair and scanning the garage “…Morty? Where the Fuughck did you…” 

He blinked, three times in a row. He stood up from his chair, and took two steps before he collapsed in front of the puddle of blood surrounding the small pale frame, curled up pathetically beside the shelf full of dangerous items, as if it provided any semblance of comfort. 

He reached out a hand, gently scraping the tips of his fingers over the cold skin of the boys cheek “….Morty?” the curling whisper of a name seemed foreign to him, it didn’t belong, that wasn’t he voice. 

When the boy didn’t stir, he surged forwards, gripping at thin shoulders and shaking endlessly “Morty! Morty! Morty you dipshit answer me!” the soft brown curls bounced around, and when stilled, lolled back. A blue line skyrocketed upwards, and stark white was stained rose red in hasty movements.

The vodka maker could always be rethought, but life was clinging and clawing with all its might. He spread the fragile boy out, a pulse couldn’t beat against the skin of his neck, and breath didn’t linger in his lungs anymore.

Rick worked quickly, as fast as he could, pressing and pumping, straining and trying to relax. He had to fix this. He had too.

But Rick couldn’t cure death.


End file.
